


Now Scully

by Frangipanidownunder



Category: The X-Files
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-07
Updated: 2017-05-07
Packaged: 2018-10-29 06:26:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10848321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Frangipanidownunder/pseuds/Frangipanidownunder
Summary: A smutty fic based on a photo prompt of a toilet/bathroom. NSFW.





	Now Scully

The stall is tiny but clean. Somewhere in her brain, she knows that normal Scully would consider that not only a blessing but an absolute necessity. But the Scully she is right now. The one who is about to have sex with Mulder in the bathroom of their son’s school, while the kids are out in the ballroom dancing and laughing and eating and doing kid stuff; that Scully just needs to feel Mulder inside her.  
He locks the door and starts to claw at her jacket. Normal Scully chides him for pulling at the delicate fabric, thinks about how much she’s paid for the item, can’t remember if it is washable or dry clean only. But now Scully just wants the fucking thing ripped off so he can get to her breasts. She tries to help him, but she bangs her elbows on the sides and he laughs into her chest. She is backed up against the toilet. The jacket falls off. Into the bowl.  
“Shit. That thing cost me a couple of pay packets.”  
“I’ll buy you two more.” He grunts as he tries to lower the straps of her dress over her shoulders.  
Normal Scully knows that he won’t be able to do what they both want until he unzips the back but now Scully is wriggling and writhing like flame flickering off a candle. And she feels just as hot. She tries to push him off long enough to turn round, but he’s too heavy as he runs kisses down her neck and collar bones and pushes his fingers under the straps.  
“Hold up, Mulder,” she huffs, twisting her neck her away and trying to gain a purchase in the frenzy. “Zipper.”  
His hands spin her and she’s facing the tiled wall, the cistern, the small box window with ugly frosted glass. Normal Scully recoils in horror at this sordid coupling, but now Scully braces her hands against the cool white squares and thinks how it would feel if Mulder just lifted her dress up and fucked her from behind like this. She pants as he unzips her. The sound of the runner breaking open the teeth sets her skin alight. She looks over her shoulder and his tongue is between his teeth, the vein on his temple throbbing, his chest rising and sinking with the pulse of her own arousal.  
This time the item of clothing is removed with more care and hung over the hook on the door. She is standing in her bra, panties and thigh high stockings and normal Scully rebukes her for being so underdressed in the cool of an autumn evening but now Scully is breaking out in gooseflesh that has nothing to do with the cold. She turns and braces her hands against Mulder, who is devouring her body with his eyes. Normal Scully should look away, embarrassed at the intent in his eyes, but now Scully opens her legs wider and slips a finger down the front of her panties. Mulder throws back his head and she watches his Adam’s apple bob and it feels like heaven and hell broiling in the pit of her stomach.  
She rids him of his jacket and it crumples to the floor in a pool as liquid as her insides. She rips open his shirt, buttons zinging this way and that. She pulls his belt out and he helps slide it through the last loop with the same desperation as a medic ministering to a fading patient. The buckle clangs on the top of the cistern and the entire belt slithers off, circling by the side of the toilet like a snake.  
The hairs on his chest hold such wonder for her. What is it about running her fingers over and through the bonds of protein and amino acids protruding from the body that make her wild? Normal Scully gives a lecture on the constructs of sexuality and conditioning but now Scully relishes the feathery lushness of the greying hairs trapped between her fingers. She unzips his fly, slips her hand down his pants, rubs him through his boxers and he moans into her neck, his fingers pinching her nipple until she cries into the line of his jaw.  
Then the door to the bathroom opens.  
Mulder’s finger tightens on her nipple and she pulls his face to her chest, his angles and stubbled lines meeting her dips and grooves and swells. The contact makes her shudder and she stifles her voice against the hollow between his neck and shoulder. He stills but she feels him twitch in her grasp.  
“We shouldn’t be here,” the girl’s voice rises through the quiet.  
Normal Scully nods and ushers them out, giving them her eyebrow and jutting jaw. Now Scully understands the desperation in the girl’s voice, the ruffling of fabrics, the wet sounds of kissing and lust. She turns briefly, connecting with Mulder’s mouth. Their experience allows them to kiss in silence. In the outer bathroom, their visitors are not quite so successful and the heavy breathing fills the space.  
“William,” the girl says, her voice breathy and rushed now, “we can’t.”  
“It’s okay, Elle, that stall has been broken for weeks. There’s nobody here.”  
Normal Scully is ready to march out of the stall and relish the look of surprise and anguish on her son’s face as she asks him point blank why he is trying to make out in the bathrooms during his own school formal. Now Scully mentally high-fives his youthful passion and fervently hopes he’ll continue his seduction.   
Just not in this bathroom.  
She senses Mulder is caught between shock and laughter as he rests his chin on her shoulder and shudders. She still has his cock in her hand. It is semi hard. She flexes her grip and he responds with a small gasp and an instant hardening. They wait.  
“There’s someone in there,” Elle says in the tiniest of pained whispers.  
“There’s not,” William says. “It’s been out of order forever.” He bangs on the door and Scully and Mulder dare not breathe as the lock rattles and threatens to slide out of its hold.  
“See?”  
“Let’s go back outside. This is…”  
There is a muffled confusion of noises, a mix of voices and kissing.  
“This is perfect, Elle. This is what we wanted, remember?”  
Mulder smirks. Normal Scully clucks and sighs, calling him out for his obvious and perhaps underhand manipulation of a young woman with little experience. Now Scully is with Mulder, applauding their son’s smooth talking. A real chip off the old block. Taking seduction to a new level.  
“William, I don’t feel comfortable.”  
A beat of silence. Mulder pulls back. Scully removes her hand from his boxers.  
“You’re right,” he says. “It’s kind of a dick move to make out in a bathroom.”  
The door swings open and wheezes shut. In that time, Scully has her hand back down Mulder’s boxers, squeezing him rhythmically. He’s got his mouth on her nipple and a hand between her legs, dipping in and out in tune to her own movements. Their bodies writhe and normal Scully knows that as a medical doctor it is her official diagnosis that acting out on fantasies is a sure sign of impulse control gone wrong. Now Scully gives no fucks about impulse control, lack of integrity, parental responsibilities or any other constructs of social and moral behaviour. She just wants Mulder to fuck her until she’s seeing stars and breathing fire.  
He slips himself into her with practised ease, despite their height difference. She is above the closed seat lid, back against the wall, legs wrapped around his waist, arms gripping his neck. He has one leg on the lid, one one the floor, one hand braced against the wall, the other round her waist. They move in unison, forward and back, gasping and sweating. Normal Scully would take a moment to watch the grace of human coupling, a dance that demonstrated the sheer beauty of the biological imperative. Now Scully dances and couples and fucks with an urgent grace and beauty, calling out at her climax as Mulder shudders to his own.  
She clings to him as he fumbles around for their clothes. Normal Scully would be prescribing counselling for depraved behaviour but now Scully is weightless with a post-coital high that transcends the need for the application of typical behaviours.  
“Our son is amazing, Mulder,” she says as he zips her back into her dress.  
“He is a gentleman in the making.”  
“Elle is a lucky girl.”  
“Not as lucky as you,” he says, dipping to kiss her.  
“You and your dick moves will get me every time, Mulder.”  
William squishes his nose up as they walk hand in hand towards him. Normal Scully writes it off as teenage rebellion against parental displays of affection. Now Scully squeezes Mulder’s hand tighter and relishes the gentle ache between her legs.


End file.
